Secrets of the Ancient Ruins

Shirone examined the menu, hesitating before asking,

"Alcohol... Are we drinking?"

"We should at least order some. This is a tavern, after all. But let's focus on the food. It's better to have lunch here."

Tess placed the order.

A traditional liquor from Galliante Island, steaming hot noodles, and minced meat were served.

As they focused on eating, loud laughter erupted from the table next to them.

Feeling a sharp tingle of unease, Shirone glanced over and saw four people drinking heavily at a table laden with alcohol.

Rian spoke up.

"Hey, I think they're talking about us."

Tess shook his head.

"Ignore it. They're just drunk."

It wasn't uncommon for mercenaries to relieve stress at a tavern, but such situations rarely ended well.

"The world sure has changed. Even brats are walking around armed now. Hey, you kids keep that up, and you won't live long."

"Look at that sword! It's ridiculously huge. Can you even swing it? You might as well carry a boulder instead."

Rian narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing as he turned.

Meanwhile, Shirone, uninterested in their provocations, silently assessed the situation.

From what he had observed upon entering, there were four mercenaries at the table—three men and one woman. One of them appeared to be an archer, and since the woman was unarmed, there was a high chance she was a mage.

'An archer and a mage...'

With two specialists in their party, they had a well-balanced formation.

"What? Got a problem with us staring? I'm in a bad mood today. Maybe I should spill some blood here."

"Oh, stop it. Do you enjoy picking on kids?"

The woman, presumably the mage, feigned dissuasion, but her tone lacked sincerity.

Rian found it even more infuriating, but he couldn't start a fight before Shirone made a move.

'You've got quite the patience, don't you?'

Shirone, chewing his noodles, remained utterly indifferent, his eyes devoid of emotion.

Even Amy continued eating calmly, leaving Rian no choice but to sigh and turn away.

"Tch!"

Once they cut off all reactions, the mercenaries, having lost their amusement, started preparing to leave.

Perhaps they had drunk too much or simply talked too much, but their expressions weren't pleasant.

"Ugh, my head is killing me."

"You kids got lucky today. Keep living like that, and you might just live a long life."

The mercenaries paid their bill and exited. The tavern owner clicked his tongue and approached.

"You kids okay? Those bastards... even picking fights with youngsters."

Shirone finally spoke.

"Do you know them?"

"They've been coming in often lately. Not sure why, but a lot of mercenaries have been heading toward the ruins. They live on the edge, so even a glance can set them off. You did well to hold back. Those guys never let things slide."

"Hmm... they come often, huh?"

Shirone found that detail particularly interesting.

Staying in one place for several days usually meant they had a specific goal.

Tess smirked at Rian.

"You did well. I was actually surprised you held back. You have no idea how nervous I was."

"...It was risky. But we'll meet them again, won't we? That's why I waited."

Shirone stood up with a smile.

"Exactly. Let's get going."

As they exited the tavern, they spotted the mercenaries heading toward the central temple.

Instead of tailing them directly, Shirone's group opted to observe from a high vantage point. Since archers typically had sensory-based skillsets, closing the distance would likely expose them.

From the fourth floor of the temple building, they observed the mercenaries—a relatively young party, none older than thirty.

A well-built swordsman seemed to be their leader. The sword at his waist was a well-known craftsman's work, recognizable even to Tess at a glance.

"Not a limited edition, but still a high-grade weapon," Tess remarked.

Beside the leader stood a massive man wielding a blunt weapon, followed by a long-haired man and a robed woman.

"Two warriors, one of whom is a swordsman. One archer. One mage. Pretty solid formation. Even in a tourist area, they move in a battle-ready stance. They must have extensive combat experience. Not following them directly was the right call."

The mercenaries headed for a stepped altar on the eastern side of the central temple.

Shirone remembered that place. It had struck him as odd that natives guarded it.

The archer approached one of the natives and spoke in what seemed to be the Kergo language.

The native glanced around warily, clearly concerned about drawing attention. Realizing they had a limited window, Shirone's group quickly made their move.

"Now's our chance! Let's go!"

The native activated a mechanism, and a rectangular crack formed in the altar before retracting inward. A thick stone door shifted aside, revealing a pitch-black entrance.

Just as the mercenaries were about to enter, Shirone called out.

"Wait! We're coming in too!"

The mercenaries turned, frowning as they recognized Shirone's group.

"What the hell? When did you start following us?"

Shirone addressed the archer.

"Mister, can we go in with you?"

"Piss off! Do you know how hard we worked to find this place? And I'm not a 'mister!'"

"Oh, come on—"

Before he could continue, the swordsman drew his blade.

Though not exceptionally fast, his movements bore the weight of countless repetitions—ingrained into his body.

"You lot want to die? Think we're pushovers? If you don't leave, I'll cut all of your throats right here."

Shirone calmly eyed the sword tip.

The stark contrast to their tavern antics left him even more annoyed.

"These bastards...!"

Just then, the native guarding the altar intervened.

"Are they with you?"

The swordsman hesitated before turning to the archer, the only one who could translate.

"What's he saying?"

"He's asking if they're part of our group."

"Hell no. Tell him we're about to deal with them and to wait."

As the archer translated, the native's expression hardened. His face turned red, as though deeply offended, and his voice grew sharp.

"Warriors do not fight in this sacred place. Those who desecrate the altar with blood shall not pass."

The archer swallowed before relaying the message.

"We should back off. If we fight here, they won't let us in."

Clicking his tongue, the swordsman sheathed his blade.

"Tch! Lucky bastards. Saved your necks twice now."

With that, he stepped through the entrance, and the rest followed.

Shirone's group lingered, watching closely.

They considered entering right after them, but the native's sharp gaze made them hesitate.

The native finally spoke.

"If you wish to proceed, enter. The Eyes of the Angel will judge you."

"What's he saying?" Tess asked.

Rian shrugged.

"Who knows? Probably something about enjoying our stay. If he wanted to kick us out, he would've closed the door."

Though they weren't entirely convinced, Shirone took the first step forward.

Seeing no resistance from the native, the rest followed him into the darkness.

No one outside noticed as all eight figures disappeared into the depths of the ruins.